Zombie
by St. Minority
Summary: Whatever questionable things he did, so long as she was safe and content, that was the only thing that mattered. Phoenix copes with his life's extreme turnabout. One-Shot. Warnings: angst, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, referenced prostitution. Characters: Phoenix, Trucy


**Title:** Zombie  
**Rating: **T  
**Pairings/Characters: **Phoenix, Trucy  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything Ace Attorney, characters, etc., all belong to their respective creators.  
**Warnings**: angst, depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, referenced prostitution  
**Summary:** Whatever questionable things he did, so long as she was safe and content, that was the only thing that mattered. One-Shot.

**A/N: **Takes place a year after Phoenix's disbarment.

* * *

Too many nights were becoming like this. Too many times he was ashamed to look at himself in the mirror. Too many times he longed for reassurance that always seemed out of reach, for a type of comfort that seemed impossible to attain.

It was grief that drove him to do it. It was the need to feel in control. It was the need to feel anything at all.

A year had passed since his life was upended so abruptly. It had taken that long to complete the process to give her his last name. Having it official now somehow cemented his present reality, made him acutely aware of how much had changed and how much he was still struggling to deal with it all. Indeed, there hadn't really been any time to adjust to or process the loss of his badge and the orphan thrust into his care simultaneously. The life he'd been thriving in vanished just as shockingly as the person who'd caused the unexpected, sharp turnabout.

The news spread quickly of his residency at the club. A surge in clientele resulted because of this from those who couldn't believe it, had to witness it with their own eyes. Others lusted after the opportunity to arrogantly rub his own downfall in his face.

"_I knew you were always a cheater."_

"_Oh, how the mighty have fallen!"_

"_Try and bluff your way out of this one, Mr. Wrong."_

The comments never ceased and always stung, regardless of the resilient mask he put on to shield himself. Up-and-coming prosecutors who dreamt of a rivalry with him, defense attorneys who were previously his competition – they were some of the more regular visitors to consistently rub salt in the wounds. Of course, they always left disappointed, for he would merely smile and shrug off their comments as if they were nothing more than casual conversation. Their displeasure was always magnified by the inability to win against him in poker, to which he couldn't help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction.

Then there were the older, more sophisticated patrons who began coming for the thrill of a good card game. They were professionals (in their opinion), and the notion of a defense attorney turned undefeated poker player - otherwise known as an amateur – was preposterous.

Both groups, former colleagues in his prior line of work and the poker enthusiasts, developed even greater animosity towards him when they discovered the rumors were accurate. Unable to take his pride by serving him a loss at the poker table, they started taking it in the alleyway outside with him on his knees. It was only meant to be a one-time mistake, but word inevitably got around that he needed the money. More and more often, after the last hand of the night was played, he was coerced into complying with the debauched requests in exchange for a considerable amount of money. He knew he would be a fool not to accept. Businesses were reluctant to hire him after the scandal involving his disbarment. An honest income was difficult to come by, and it wasn't just himself that he had to look after anymore.

She was everything to him now, though he often wondered if she'd be better off without him. There were plenty of good families around, ones that could provide her with more than he could ever dream of. If he just went a little deeper, pressed a little harder, positioned the blade a little lower, he could free both himself and her. Surely, she would be better off without him….

But then he would think of her smile, her hugs, her attempts to cheer him up despite never knowing the truth behind the pain he tried to hide from her – he never could seem to hide it well enough….

He'd started wearing a long-sleeved hoodie whenever he was with her. She didn't need to see, and he was too embarrassed to try and make excuses. He was learning he couldn't lie to her; somehow, she always knew when he wasn't being honest. Concealing them with clothing was the easiest solution to avoid the truth.

She was the only light in his darkness. He felt abandoned and lost by everyone and everything else. Without her, he certainly wouldn't have made it this long on his own.

Placing the last bandage onto his forearm, Phoenix looked up and forced himself to stare at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a mess, the skin under his eyes was tainted darker, and his eyes themselves were puffy and bloodshot from the familiar tears that would frequently come once he got home from his shift at the club, the generous amount of cash in his pocket reminding him why he did _this_ – why he needed the punishment. The release. The control.

He ensured the bathroom was spotless once he finished. There couldn't be any evidence left for her to find when he'd wake her up in six hours to get ready for school.

Quietly opening the door to her room, he peeked in to check on her. The stuffed animal she slept with had fallen on the floor, and he crept over to retrieve it and placed it gently beside her. The slight movement was enough to rouse her, and her eyelids fluttered open tiredly. Upon seeing who was standing over her, she grinned and whispered, "Daddy! You're home!"

He returned her beaming expression and said quietly, "Hey, kiddo. I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay. Can you stay with me til I fall back asleep?"

"Sure thing."

He slid under the covers next to her, and she promptly snuggled against him. Wrapping his arm around her, he kissed the top of her head and softly petted her hair.

"Night night, Trucy."

"Night night, daddy."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

She always reminded him there was still beauty in his world. As if by magic, her mere presence could banish all thoughts he had about not being good enough. Whatever questionable things he did, so long as she was safe and content, that was the only thing that mattered.

For now, she was his comfort. She was the one that made him feel something other than despair. He only had to be good enough for her. In the end, she made everything he'd gone through worth it.

* * *

**A/N: **Feeling pretty depressed this week, and while listening to the Cranberries' "Zombie" on the way home from work one day, I decided Phoenix could suffer with me.


End file.
